You Are Dumb, which is not a blog, posts new columns when it can manage to in these troubled Trumpian times. It is also a Twitter feed, @youaredumb, with content in a similar vein but much shorter. For a take on what a blog by me would be like, check out OLDNERD.

It's time for the end of our glorious theme week celegrating* National Review Online's Star Trek Weekend, a full weekend of articles tying together conservative principles and Star Trek. Well, mostly.

Because of all the dumbfucks they got to write for Star Trek Weekend, the dumbest of the fucks has to be Jennifer Kaczor, whose article for Star Trek Weekend is entitled, I shit you not, "Trouble With A Teenage Padawan".

I know. Get it out of your system. Take a few minutes if you need to**. Because as hilarious and literally dumbfounding as it is that this woman doesn't know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars, the astonishing thing to me is that the thing got posted at all. Because there's no way in fuck that the site's editors could have missed that Kaczor based her piece on an entirely different franchise. The level of first- and second-hand nerditry in the rest of the articles makes that oh so painfully clear.

Which leaves three possibilities. One, nobody's actually vetting these things before OR AFTER they go up. Two, they found Kaczor's article so amazing that they printed it despite its glaring error. Or three, they just don't give a fuck.

The first one's just not possible. The very existence of a coordinated Star Trek Weekend is prima facie evidence of, with apologies to yesterday's NRO moron, the dreaded CENTRAL PLANNING. Someone's driving this short bus, and failed to notice that little Jennifer got off at the wrong stop.

The second seems highly unlikely, because Kaczor's article sucks like a Dyson vacuum cleaner in a black hole. It's chastity-belt conservative parenting at its worst, gussied up with a seemingly endless parade of inappropriate, unfunny references to what is, again, the completely fucking wrong science fiction saga.

You see, her fourteen-year-old daughter has her first boyfriend. Who is, we learn very early on, trying to "turn my daughter to the dark side". With his penis. But since the daughter was resisting his advances, "The Force ran strong in our family." Coincidentally, the bile runs strong in my ducts whenever I read that.

But then, to her horror, Kaczor learns of three horrific crimes of passion her daughter has been committing with her boyfriend. Lest I fail to give these crimes the gravitas they deserve, I turn it over to Kaczor. ACTUAL QUOTE TIME!

"Did I know that they were meeting at the movies, the Promenade, and at school dances? I did not. Did I know that they were talking via Elizabeth’s cell phone until after midnight? I did not. Did I know that they had been kissing? Oh god, I did not!"

I realize I'm not some reactionary fuckhead, but historically, hanging out socially, talking late into the night, and kissing are three longtime staples of teen romance, and have not, the last time I checked, led to the downfall of society or the ruination of feminine virtue. And since these activities are not something to overreact to, that's precisely what Kaczor proceeds to claim to do, with the single most unfortunate pop culture metaphor of this entire sad exercise:

And then it hit me. I had to disarm her. I had to get her light saber — and destroy it. In typical Jedi fashion, Elizabeth kept her glowing pink weapon at her side."

After seeing this quote, I hastily convened a panel consisting of the ghost of Sigmund Freud, Ron Jeremy, and a giant floating disembodied set of male genitalia. And they unanimously agreed that Kaczor's imagery was WAY too phallic for their comfort zone.

What she was talking about was her daughter's cell phone, which she asked for, received, and claims to have then BROKEN IN TWO. Essentially, following the metaphor to its logical conclusion, castrating her daughter. What kind of woman is that fucked up? I'm not sure, but there's an important clue in her biographical tag at the end of the article:

"Jennifer Kaczor lives in Los Angeles with her husband and seven children." Seven children! Imagine how many she'd have by now if she'd had a cellphone during HER teen years.

*Celebratory denigrating, of course.

**Perhaps you could use this time to reflect on the "nerf-herder" joke from Monday's column. There is a method to my madness.